


he is the debris and the sea

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, POV Second Person, ghost!chuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He comes back into your life in trickles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he is the debris and the sea

**Author's Note:**

> In parts inspired by [this](http://cy-lindric.tumblr.com/post/101119979028/x-whispers-exr-reincarnation-aus), which was inspired by [this](http://quotesandimages.com/post/98308334378), and the rest, idek.

He doesn’t sleep anymore. He stands by your bed, casting shadows across the ache in your bones, and you wake up to sunshine spreading across your lap.

To say the sun is the same everywhere is not quite correct, the warmth in Hawaii is nothing like Oz. The heat is all different, and something feels right when you look to the corners of the room and there’s nothing to find.

You hear your country’s plans of a statue carved in stone. You hope you don’t live long enough to see that stand against the skyline of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. You may have buried him once, but the world has buried him everywhere else.

He is part of the debris and the sea.

Buried from the Breach to the last stray piece of Striker that makes it back to surface waves. They bury him with the decommissioned ‘dome, in Oblivion Bay, and his mother’s grave. They lay down bouquets, and he is both the ribbon and the stems. The world buries him every way they know, and you, you bury him where Rangers go to die. He is your son, but he has always been a Ranger first. Even in passing, you commit them to memory. You know every name, every fight, every Kaiju that brought them down.

You bury him with those that came first. You bury him last.

You get up, you start another day.

He is the warmth of the sun tracking you to the sink in the bathroom, tiles cool against your feet. You are the tilt of your neck when your razor slips from your wet, soapy hand. He is the clatter, and the water that drips down your chin.

He comes back into your life in trickles.

In drift memories you cannot remember.

There is only a blue sky where you stand.

Him, in the sun, facing you.

His grave is marked. In letters and numbers that make up years, (and years that you were never there for him). You don’t leave him flowers. You don’t leave a single sign that you’ve been here even as you make a home for yourself in the shadows of what remains of the PPDC on this island. You don’t wonder what comes after death, just how you’re still the only one left.

You leave your fingerprints across the stone, in the crevices of lines and cuts that mark a life while he leaves the lights on in the dark. He is what keeps the pressure against your back, the warmth between the sheets when you get in bed that has you sinking into your mattress.

Your tears are dry by the time you turn to go, another visit, another day, walking between the rows and rows of headstones, dew leaving the soles of your boots wet. The soft drop of the earth beneath your weight, and when it rains, it leaves you with mud at the bottom of your boots. He walks with you, for however long this takes, tracking brown with every step.

He is in the atmosphere surrounding you.

He stands by his grave for you, he spends his days with you.

 

XXX Kuro


End file.
